A Slow Boil

by Karen Winters

  “And he hasn’t tried to make a move on you or anything like that?”

  “No. Come on, Britt, I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought he was going to jump me.”

  “What’s he charging you for rent, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “He won’t let me pay him anything, that’s the only problem.” She gave me a look of pure skepticism. “I know, Britt, but what can I do? He’s offered me free room and board, he won’t take a dime, he won’t dock my pay, and he won’t increase my hours. He says he just needs to know that I’m safe at night.”

  “That you’re safe at night.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  She pursed her lips together and moved her glass around in quick circles. “I don’t know, Sylvia, you hear about this kind of thing all the time. An older man gets his clutches on a younger girl, starts taking control of her life, pretty soon she’s nothing but a zombie.”

  I laughed. “I don't think Mr. Hunter intends to turn me into a zombie. I really think he just likes me, and no, not in that way,” I added hastily to response to her raised eyebrow. I finished my drink and could only blame the alcohol for what I said next.

  “Okay, maybe he likes my hair that way.”

  “Your hair?”

  “He told me to wear it down while I’m on the clock.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t answer. I was falling asleep.”

  Britt’s jaw was almost on the table by this point.

  “It was no big deal. I was up almost all of Wednesday night finishing my last paper and I actually fell asleep after dinner Thursday. Mr. Hunter let me spend the night in a guest room, the one that I’ll be moving into tomorrow.”

  “So let me get this straight. He tells you how to wear your hair and lets you sleep at his house, then he asks you to move in with him but won’t let you pay rent.” She was shaking her head. I could tell she was getting suspicious and if I let happen, I’d have to deal with it all summer.

  I got the waiter’s attention. “I’d better start at the beginning. Next round’s on me.”

  A couple of hours and drinks later, I’d told Britt almost everything about the interactions I’d had with Mr. Hunter over the last two weeks. I left out that he’d asked me kneel next to him last night and that I’d found my apron under his bed this afternoon. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was holding those things back as I’d always been completely open with Britt, but I knew they wouldn’t sit well with her, and why should they? Mr. Hunter might not think his actions required explaining, but I knew Britt would want one and I just didn’t know what to say about that side of Mr. Hunter yet. I hadn’t had the time or energy to figure it out for myself, and based on what he’d said when he asked me to move in, I doubted I’d see that side of him again anyway.

  When I was done, she had a much better opinion of Mr. Hunter, and even said it quite gallant of him to drive me to the south end this morning. We were gathering up our things to leave when she asked me one last question.

  “Syl, do you like Mr. Hunter? I mean, as a person? Would you be friends with him if you met in other circumstances?”

  “Yeah. I do like him. He’s very reserved, but I got to know him better this week.”

  “Okay, then, that's good enough for me.”

  I sighed. “Britt, really. He’s a nice person.” I got an idea. “Listen, he’s picking me up at four tomorrow to move my stuff. Come over around three to help me pack and you can meet him for yourself.”

  “I will do just that,” she agreed, nodding once for emphasis.

  I slept in the next morning until ten, then started my laundry. It was amazing how quickly it went with the dorm almost empty and all the machines free. In fact, I was the only one down in the laundry room that morning. All the other students were probably hauling duffel bags full of dirty clothes home to their grateful mothers.

  “Which box do you want this in?” Britt was cleaning out my desk for me as I packed my suitcase. She held up a coffee mug I’d totally forgotten I had.

  “Hmm. That one, I guess.” I pointed to the box that held my hair dryer and toiletries. It was quarter to four and we were almost done.

  “So, do you want to go to a movie or something tonight?”

  “I don't know. I kind of want to get settled in a bit first, but I’ll call you later and let you know for sure.”

  “Okay.”

  “Otherwise, I’m free all day tomorrow. I don’t have to start work again until Monday afternoon.”

  “What exactly do you do for Mr. Hunter?”

  “Well, Monday I get to dust the entire house.”

  “Fun.”

  “Actually, it’s not that bad. Mindless work is kind of refreshing to me right now. And besides, you would die if you saw his library – it’s huge.”

  “Huge is good until you have to dust it.”

  “It’s not that bad, I keep telling you. Besides, dusting the books is a great way to see everything he’s got. He told me I could borrow whatever I wanted to read this summer, and my list is already like twenty books long. Oh, and there’s a piano, and you should see the windows.”

  “Okay, I get it. It’s awesome. Maybe I’ll have to come visit you sometime and see for myself.”

  “Yeah, you should. Mr. Hunter said no overnight guests but during the day should be fine.”

  “No overnight guests? No boyfriends is what he meant.”

  “He’s never asked me so he wouldn’t know one way or the other. But obviously that’s not a problem. No slumber parties is all he has to worry about.”

  “How come you never went out with anyone this year? Lots of guys were interested in you.”

  “I did go out a couple times last fall, but none of them were really my type, I guess.”

  “And what is your type?”

  My phone rang and this time I recognized Mr. Hunter’s number. I gave Britt a knowing smile. “You’re about to find out.”

  I opened my phone. “Hi, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Hello, Miss Lane. I’m parking in front of your building. Do you want me to come up and help carry things down or shall I wait down here?”

  I assessed my pile of worldly possessions: three boxes, a suitcase, and a laptop. “We could use a hand. Maybe we can make it in one trip. I’m in room three-oh-two, right at the top of the stairs on the third floor.”

  “See you in a minute.”

  “Bye.”

  I had propped my door open so I watched him come up the stairs. He was wearing jeans and a patterned button-down shirt. He looked good. Damn good, as usual.

  I waved him into my room and introduced him to Britt. She seemed a little more tongue-tied than usual, answering his polite questions in monosyllables. Mr. Hunter insisted on taking two boxes, the two heaviest ones that had my books and notebooks in them. I took the third box and Britt grabbed my suitcase and computer.

  “Bye, room,” I said as I closed the door behind me for the last time.

  “Will you miss it here?” Mr. Hunter asked me.

  “Not at all. Can you believe the university thinks it’s humane to squeeze three people into a room that size? Animal shelters probably have stricter guidelines. I just always say 'bye' when I’m leaving a place for good, I don't know why.”

  We piled my things into Mr. Hunter’s trunk. I gave Britt a quick hug and thanked her for helping me. “I'll call you tonight, but like I said, don’t count on me until tomorrow.”

  “I won’t. Either way’s fine.”

  “Good bye, Miss Sheridan. It was a pleasure meeting you. Say hello to your aunt for me and tell her I miss her cornbread muffins.” Mr. Hunter stretched his hand out to Britt, and they shook quickly. Britt doesn’t blush like I do, but I swear she turned a darker shade of white.

  She watched as Mr. Hunter opened my door and helped me in. I gave her one last goodbye wave out the car window, but she was looking down, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

  Mr. Hunter got in next to me.
“Ready?”

  “Yep. Let’s go.”

  He had just gotten onto the main road out of town when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and was surprised that Britt had texted me already. “I get it now,” was all she wrote. I chuckled and put the phone back in my pocket.

  “Something funny, Miss Lane?”

  “Britt. Britt is funny.” Before he could ask for any specifics, I changed the subject. “So do you really miss Mrs. Sheridan’s cornbread muffins? Is that something I should make for you?”

  “No, I don’t miss them. I could tell she thought I liked them more than I did. Don’t worry, Miss Lane. Her cooking didn’t hold a candle to yours.”

  “It’s not that. I just want to make things you like. And are you ever going to start calling me Sylvia?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll just have to see.”

  We settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. When we got to the house, Mr. Hunter insisted on carrying the heavier boxes upstairs while I took the suitcase and laptop. My room looked different and it took me a minute to figure what had changed. First, there was a desk and chair in the corner that hadn’t been here before. Next to them was an empty bookcase, and on the dresser was a large vase of fresh tulips. I was still taking it all in when Mr. Hunter came in with my last box. He put it down by the others.

  “I added a few things this morning. Nothing has to stay.”

  “It’s perfect. I love it.”

  “Good.”

  “I may never leave this room.” I moved closer to the vase of tulips and held one up to my nose. It had no scent but the color was exquisite and it felt like cool satin under my fingers.

  “I don’t want you to feel that I expect you stay in here. The rest of the house is yours to enjoy. I just thought you’d like your own space.”

  He sounded a bit agitated. I turned to look at him as he continued. “I mean, I could run a cable up here and have a TV put in, if you’d like, but you’re welcome to use the one downstairs. The bathroom across the hall is yours to use, although you’ll have to share when I have company. Also, feel free to cook your own meals.”

  I realized that what I’d taken for agitation was actually nervousness. Mr. Hunter was nervous about me moving in. “Mr. Hunter, this room is nicer than anything I’d hoped to find for the summer, but I promise to make myself comfortable in the rest of the house, too, especially the library. You’ll probably regret asking me to move in once you see what a mess I can make in the kitchen,” I assured him. “Okay?”

  He visibly relaxed. “Okay. I do want you to be happy here, not just safe.”

  “I will be. I can tell already.”

  “Good. I brought home some take-out tonight unless you have other plans?” I shook my head. “Meet me in the dining room then at six. That should give you time to unpack.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’d set up my computer on the desk, shoved my books into the bookcase, sorted out my clothes into the dresser and stowed my toiletries in the bathroom across the hall. When I was finished, it was only five-fifteen. Forty-five minutes to kill … what should I do? I laid down on my bed but I wasn’t tired. I turned on my computer and connected to Mr. Hunter’s wireless network. The man didn’t have a password? For crying out loud, I thought in outrage as I quickly shuffled through my favorite websites. Nothing new. I decided to hit the library and that’s where Mr. Hunter found me at six, curled up in a chair, engrossed in a novel.

  “Miss Lane, dinner is ready.”

  “Oh, sorry. I lost track of the time. What are we having?”

  “Chinese.”

  “Yum.”

  I followed him downstairs. Instead of entering the dining room through the kitchen, he led me into the living room and through the door that he always used. He’d set two places at the table, his usual one at the head and another just to his left. He pulled my chair out for me, sat down next to me and gestured at the various take-out containers on the table.

  “This one’s Kung Pao chicken, that’s Szechuan beef, there’s egg rolls, rice, and a side of vegetables. I didn’t know how spicy you like your food, so everything’s two stars.”

  “I love spicy. The hotter the better. The only thing is I don’t eat meat.”

  “You don’t eat meat? I had no idea. What have you been having for dinner here every night?”

  “An extra serving of whatever side dish and vegetable I made that night.”

  “I wish I’d known. I wanted you to enjoy your first regular dinner here.”

  “This is perfect,” I reassured him, dishing some of the vegetables onto my plate. “I love mushrooms.”

  He helped himself to the other dishes, clearly leaving the vegetables for me, and we ate together in silence for a few minutes. It didn’t surprise me at all that he could handle chopsticks like a pro.

  “Tell me, Miss Lane. How are you able to cook a flawless steak when you don’t eat meat yourself?”

  “I grew up cooking for my dad. He’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”

  “You’ve mentioned him a couple of times. But not your mother.” He spoke quietly, as if knowing this might be a sensitive issue.

  “She left us when I was two.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We’re still in touch. She just wasn’t cut out to be a wife and mother. We have more of a friendship than a mother-daughter kind of thing.”

  “I see.”

  “What about you, Mr. Hunter? Any family?”

  “I'm the oldest of three brothers.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot. I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

  “It was noisy. Our house was total chaos growing up. I guess that’s why I like my peace and quiet so much as an adult.”

  “Yeah, that would explain it. That would also explain all the photos in your bedroom.”

  “You noticed those?”

  “Well, I have to dust them, don’t I?”

  “I suppose you do.”

  “Are you close with your brothers?”

  “Relatively. No pun intended. We’re all quite some distance from each other now, but they’re coming to visit in July.”

  “Oh good. I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

  “Hold that thought. They’re bringing their wives and children. Things get very turned upside-down around here.” He put down his chopsticks and started to get up. “I forgot to offer you a drink. What you would like?”

  “This is weird. Are you going to be waiting on me on the weekends?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. We’ll take turns, maybe, on meals we have together?”

  “Okay. I’ll have whatever you're having.”

  He moved over to the liquor cabinet and returned shortly with two martinis. We finished the rest of our dinner and I started to gather up the dishes.

  “Uh-uh.” He took the plates out of my hands. “Not tonight. You can carry in the left-overs, though.”

  We put things away in the kitchen and after the dishwasher was started, Mr. Hunter asked me if I was going out for the evening.

  “I don’t think so. Britt invited me to a movie, but I’d rather go tomorrow.”

  “Well, when you do decide to go, I’ve got one more thing to show you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Follow me.” He started toward the garage. There he gestured to a bicycle I hadn’t noticed when we’d driven in. “I thought this would come in handy.”

  “You got me a bike?”

  “I don’t want you to feel stuck out here. This will get you into town in no time.”

  I went to examine it more closely. It looked brand new. And expensive.

  “Mr. Hunter, I can’t accept this!”

  “Of course you can.”

  “But it’s too much!”

  “Not if it helps you get around, it isn’t.”

  “But I don’t mind walking. I’m used to it.”

  “I know you are. But you know how I am about your safe
ty. I don’t like to think of you going everywhere on foot. It was either this or a moped, and I knew you wouldn’t accept that. So. Any more inquisitive buts that need addressing?”

  I turned back to face him, ready to keep arguing my case but he had such an amused look on his face that I closed my mouth and just put my hands on my hips in frustration. He was enjoying this far too much.

  “You’ll still need a lock and a helmet if you want one. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get those things yourself.”

  I stood there for a second and then impulsively reached up to hug him.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered back, putting his arms around me. He held me longer than the moment required, the arm he had around my waist pulling me tightly against him. He felt so strong, so warm, and he smelled so good up close, not like cologne or soap, just like 'man.' His other arm was across the top of my back, and I felt him gently finger the ends of my hair. I could have stayed in that hug forever, but eventually he gave me a quick final squeeze and let me go.

  Chapter 9

  I pedaled my new bike into town around eleven the next morning. Britt and I were meeting at noon for lunch and then a movie, and I wanted a few extra minutes to stop at a hardware store and get a lock and chain. What would have been a thirty minute walk was now a five minute ride. I picked out the most expensive lock I could find; no way was I allowing my new baby to get stolen. I loved it already.

  “Nice wheels!” Britt exclaimed as I pulled up to meet her outside the pizzeria.

  “I know, right? Mr. Hunter gave it to me last night.”

  “Jesus. Where can I get a sugar daddy?”

  Britt could always make me laugh out loud. We’d met in a class last fall when I overheard her mutter something sarcastic about the syllabus that had just been handed around. I muttered something back and before we knew it, we were both giggling hysterically. The professor glared at us for the rest of the day but it was too late. We’d become best friends almost immediately.

  I tried to sound professorial myself as I answered, “Miss Sheridan, a sugar daddy, as you know, is a degenerate fellow who gives trinkets, geegaws, and other useless things to a woman of low substance in exchange for sexual favors. What we have here, on the other hand, is a fine, upstanding gentleman showing consideration for the fact that his employee, a fine, upstanding gentlewoman in her own right, might find the occasional use of bipedal transportation to be to her advantage.”